Our Willingness
by thosedarndursleys
Summary: Life after the war was tough for Remus Lupin, to say the least. When he searches for a new beginning, things just get worse. Warning: this story focuses on topics of addiction and grief.


**Warning: This story focuses mostly on addiction as a coping mechanism. I do not condone such choices. If pessimistic topics of addiction or grief are not your cup of tea, please go back now. I will not be offended in the least, and I'm sure there are many other stories that you will find and enjoy.**

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Our Willingness

" _Pessimism becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; it reproduces itself by crippling our willingness to act."_

— _Howard Zinn_

Remus Lupin had never thought it would be like this. In fact, if he had been told of this reality just two years ago, he would have laughed in the teller's face. Now, however, this nightmare was all too real.

After James and Lily died, after Sirius killed Peter, Remus had nearly lost his mind. Unemployed, alone, and barely coping with the chaos that his life had become, Remus had sat in his flat for two weeks. He had cried. He had yelled. He had stared at the walls. He had even put a few dents in the plaster, but nothing would vanquish the throbbing pain that had become his constant companion.

So he had put in his notice with his landlord. He had packed the few meaningful possessions he owned, and he had left in search of something he couldn't define.

The location of that something turned out to be Diagon Alley. Acting on impulse, Remus had taken the Knight Bus to its next stop. He had stepped off through the back threshold of the Leaky Cauldron and stared at his new beginning. It had taken mere moments for him to begin systematically walking into shops, asking for employment. The first half of the strip had resulted in nothing but closed doors, but just as despair had begun to suffocate him once more, he experienced his first stroke of providence in over two weeks.

He had walked into a grungy potions shop and been surprised to find the shopkeeper to be an amiable man. He had gladly hired Remus, not only feigning ignorance about his reasoning behind needing monthly leave, but also providing lodging in the upper rooms of the shop. Remus had gladly accepted, and that night was his first shift of steady work in eight months.

Remus spent the next three weeks cleaning and organizing the shop every evening. When the shopkeeper would lock the door and floo home, Remus would begin to polish and sort each vial, each display. It became a source of distraction for him, giving him both physical and mental exercise for his endless grief.

For those three weeks, Remus healed.

Then came the night of the full moon.

Remus left town early in the day, taking refuge in a nearby woodland that was large enough to hide his furry little problem. It was a trying full moon. Remus awoke the following morning with more scars than he'd acquired since before his sixth year of Hogwarts. He had apparated back to the shop that night, deciding to wait and make up for the missed shift the following evening.

When that evening came, however, Remus felt no better for wear. He pulled himself from under the covers and trudged down the stairs, feeling more overwhelmed than he had since his new life had begun.

It was completely unintentional that he came across the Amplified Pain Reliever. It was by impulse that he found himself fingering the bottle. It was a split-second decision that he removed the cork and drained its contents. Within seconds, Remus felt relief—real, all-encompassing relief. It settled from his toes to the tips of his hair, and Remus was able to breathe easily for the first time in weeks.

Thus began Remus Lupin's addiction.

Every evening Remus would clean the shop, and every evening he would pocket two vials of Amplified Pain Reliever: one for the moment, and one for the next morning. The shopkeeper never noticed, blindly trusting his employee as a child would an officer of the law. There were no inventory checks, no questions—just a shopkeeper's ignorance and a werewolf's secret.

Things continued in such a way for the following six months. Remus would sleep during the day and clean at night. He would disappear for the full moons and pocket an extra vial when he returned home. He was friendly to his boss and to the people of Diagon Alley. Despite his circumstances, Remus Lupin felt as if his life was finally looking up.

Until one mid-winter day.

Remus left his flat late in the morning, tired from the night before but too high on relief to want to waste it on sleep. He waved at the shopkeeper and crossed the threshold into Diagon Alley.

He perused each window display, feeling the blood rush through his veins, hearing his heartbeat thrum in his ears. He barely noticed the items behind the glass. He couldn't hear the people around him. That is, until he heard a tiny yet boisterous voice.

"Mummy, what's wrong with that man?"

Remus didn't know why he had heard it—it was no louder than the other voices that flooded the strip—but it contained an unmistakable demand for attention; it contained the demand of a child.

"Sweetie, don't point." The mother was hushed. _Embarrassed_ , Remus thought.

"Can I go ask him?"

" _No_ , Abigail."

Remus' eyes wandered from the book display before him to the girl and her mother that stood just six feet away. The mother held fast to her daughter's hand in an attempt to pull her in the opposite direction, but the girl's feet were planted, her eyes fixed on Remus.

"Abigail, let's _go_."

The little girl's eyes didn't waver.

Remus looked to the ground before drawing his attention back to the display. He realised he wasn't standing in front of a window. It was a door with a pane of glass at the top—it was the entrance to the shop.

"I'm sorry—" Remus coughed in an attempt to steady his voice. "I didn't realise…"

He took a step backward and found the little girl's eyes again. They were inquisitive, but not in the way of a child learning a new word or spell. They were inquisitive in the way a child looks at a pile of ruin.

"It's alright," the mother said quickly, giving up patience and lifting her daughter to her arms. "We were just leaving, actually." She turned away and walked down the strip with purpose, away from the shop, away from Remus.

Remus walked to the actual display and studied his reflection in the glass. What he saw made bile rise in his throat. The area around his eyes had sunken in. His skin was pale, as pale as it was each morning before a full moon. He had lost what little weight he had gained while rooming with Sirius the previous summer, and the bones hidden beneath his robes stood out when he turned to a certain angle. Remus Lupin had to agree with the girl—he was, in essence, ruin.

He looked away from the reflection and trudged back to the potions shop. He entered without sparing a glance for the manager; he simply walked toward the back stairs and closed himself in his flat before falling into bed, no longer enjoying the relief.

— — — — —

Remus awoke hours later to find that night had descended on his bedroom. He fumbled for his wand, cursing the ache in his arms before illuminating the space. He forwent the option of fresh clothes and limped down the stairs to the shop. He reached the shelf without a second thought, but paused as his fingers brushed against the bottle.

Remus' mind was assaulted by the earlier image of his reflection, of his sunken face and drooping eyes. He wondered when that had happened and promptly blamed it on the war. He had been like this for years now—it had been a long time coming. He had simply forgotten.

A twinge wracked his body and he grasped the vial before he could second guess it. He downed its contents without tasting them, waiting for relief.

Seconds passed, then minutes, but the relief never came.

Remus' jaw clenched and he reached for a second vial.

 _I've never had to double up before_.

The second was gone as quickly as the first.

There was still no relief.

Remus was just reaching for a third vial when he heard the front door of the shop creak open. The lights turned on a moment later and Remus wondered why he hadn't thought to do that himself.

"Remus," the old shopkeeper's voice grew clearer as he crossed the room. "What are you doing in the dark? Have you already finished cleaning?"

"No," Remus said before he could stop himself. His was in a daze, but a small part of his mind begged him to shut his mouth. "I came down for a potion."

"A potion?" The man's voice was wary, confused. "What sort d'you need, my boy?"

"Pain reliever." Remus' mind cursed again, but his thoughts were too muddled to register it.

"Well you won't find it over there." The man raised a brow in humor, as oblivious as always. "That's Veritaserum. The pain reliever…"

But Remus didn't hear the rest. His gaze wandered to the shelf that held two empty vials. There, right at chest-level, was a label with clear, bold letters: _Veritaserum_.

"Shit." Remus' voice was as flat as ever, but his mind was spinning. _Shit shit shit._

His eyes raked the room around him. He was on the opposite side of the shop, not even remotely close to the pain reliever. He hadn't even noticed. He hadn't paid attention.

"How did I do that?"

The man's brow wrinkled. "Do what?"

Remus cringed. "Can't even keep my damn _thoughts_ to myself."

He muttered a curse as his mind voiced itself once more.

"What?"

Remus met the gaze of the old shopkeeper who stood in front of Remus' usual shelf.

"I accidentally—" his voice broke and he tried in vain to contain his thoughts. "I accidentally took Veritaserum."

The man's eyes widened as he took in the signs of the younger man in front of him.

"Bloody hell, mate. How'd you do that?"

"I was trying to get relief. I didn't turn on the light, though. I just wanted relief." Remus could hear himself rambling but could do nothing to stop it.

"Alright, m'boy. Alright." The man crossed the room and put a hand on Remus' shoulder. Realization shone in his eyes as he squeezed and began walking Remus to the stairwell. "Let's get you back to bed."

"No, I need—"

"—No you don't." The man said, his voice hard but not unkind. "You don't need that stuff."

"But I do!" Remus could hear the shrillness in his voice, but his mind was still too muddled to control it. "I need it!"

The man's grasp grew stronger as he forced Remus into the bedroom and sat him on the bed. He knelt down to eye-level.

"How long have you been taking the pain reliever?"

Despite his cloudy mind, Remus knew there was no anger in the man's voice, just sadness.

"Six months." The answer voiced itself without permission.

The man cursed under his breath before pushing Remus down on the bed.

"Go to sleep, Remus."

"No! I need—"

" _Sleep_ , Remus. We'll talk in the morning. You're in no shape to do so now."

"No!" Remus sat up in bed, but immediately felt the man's weight on his shoulders again. The next moment was a blur as the weight remained and a vial was pressed to his lips. He drank it willingly, expecting relief but receiving something vastly different.

There was no respite from the pain—that he could tell. There was no liberation from his ailments, only the blissful oblivion that sleep provides.

— — — — —

Remus awoke the next morning to the sunshine glaring through his open window. His mind was clear, but his body ached as it hadn't in over half a year. The events of the previous night flashed through his mind and he swore much louder than he intended.

"You don't even have the potion to blame for that one," a wry voice commented. Remus' gaze snapped to the doorway.

The old shopkeeper leaned against the door frame, his eyes sad and his face stern.

"Come on out for breakfast, Remus. We need to talk before I open the shop."

Remus ran a hand through his thinning hair and followed the old man. The kitchen was small but adequate. The man sat at the empty place mat, leaving one with a full plate for Remus, who took his seat without a word.

Both men were silent as the clock ticked on. When he realized, it seemed, that Remus wasn't going to speak, the older man started on his own.

"Remus, you have a problem." He still wasn't angry, just matter of fact.

"No, I don't." Remus could hear his mumble and carefully enunciated his next defense. "Last night was just—"

"—The same as all of the ones before it?" Remus was silent, unable to fight the man's sorrowful eyes. "Except last night you weren't lucid enough to find what you really wanted."

Remus clenched his jaw and studied his untouched plate of food. He searched for something to say, for a defense to throw at the man, but all he found was the memory of his ruined reflection.

Remus said the only thing that came to mind.

"I'm sorry."

There was a beat of silence before the shopkeeper spoke again.

"Listen, St. Mungoes has a great program for—"

"No." Remus' voice was hard, harder than he had ever heard it.

 _Where did that come from?_

"Well, you really ought to consider it, son—"

" _No_."

It was just as gruff as before.

"Well," the man began again and stood from his chair. "You can't stay here." Remus nodded his head. He had anticipated no less. "I expect you out by tonight." Upon seeing Remus' second nod, the shopkeeper started toward the staircase. "And Remus?"

The werewolf's head snapped up to the shopkeeper's, unable to ignore the softness it held. "Get better, son."

Remus coughed to cover the break in his voice as he responded.

"I will."

The man nodded before turning to go down the stairs. When Remus was alone, he hid his face with his palms. Silence descended on the flat as his body quaked with pain and fear. He didn't know how he had gotten here; he didn't know when it had gotten this bad, but desperation shattered him at the one thing he thought he knew:

"I won't."

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 **A/N:** Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I know it was a heavy one, so thanks for bearing with me. If you have any comments or criticisms, please feel free to PM me or leave a review. I love getting feedback!

 **A/N 2:** On a more official note, this was written for Round 7 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I, as captain of the Caerphilly Catapults, was assigned to write about the potion **Veritaserum**. For judging purposes, the final word count for this story is 2,379.

 **A/N 3:** Also, if you have a spare minute, please check out the story "The Green Lady" by The Caerphilly Catapults (It's on my profile under the _Favorite Stories_ tab). It was a collaborative effort between my team and myself and we'd love to get your feedback on it. :)


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